Bantoria: The Saga of The Boys
by Haembjorgur
Summary: Violence! Absurdity! E-Henchmen! The ancient realm of Bantoria has been conquered and subjected to tyranny under the reign of Queen Crocothot. As hope is waning in the aftermath of the Age of Thots, four idiots are tasked with finding the the only one who can stop Crocothot and her e-legions: the presumed dead giga-chad Gigalonius Unitonius, THE Absolute Unit.
1. Part 1

Chapter 1: A Cold Winter Night

It was deep in the evening, on the eve of midnight. After the golden sun sank down past the jagged horizon of the Fraust Mountains, many big boys, absolute units, bearded mates, and proper BONKERS lads converged upon the Musty Boot tavern for a night of camaraderie, singing shanties, making poor financial decisions in drunken bets, and various other things associated with alcoholism and liver destruction. The northern snow tossed and swirled in the cold winter night. As the wind and trees composed their sweet nocturnal melody, the tavern doors swung right open by the impact of a coarse leather boot, shattering the beautiful sounds of nature and replacing them with the drunken shouting that came from within the tavern.

A long-haired, tall lad came bumbling out of the warm womb of night life and into the cold serenity of the white forest. He wore the outfit of a rugged northern hunter: worn-in hide pants, rough leather boots, a hide vest, and a white long-sleeved undershirt. To keep him warm in the freezing climate was a short cloak of wolf's fur, raggedly sewn together by his own unexperienced hands.

As he fought through the knee-high snow drifts, he mumbled curses in multiple tongues, as though his mind were flipping through pages of a book. Unbeknownst to him, a protruding root caught his foot. Before he knew he had mucked up, he was tumbling towards the ground.

"Aye ye bastard!" trailed off into the snow, just in time muffling the "bastard".

With a mighty strain and a quaking flatulence, the lad got back onto his feet and continued trekking through the snow.

Upon reaching his destination, a tall pine tree that shot into the night sky, he unlatched his belt. What followed was the most impressive and powerful blast of urine any man had ever released. The sheer force of the stream blew bark off the poor pine. Halfway eating into the tree's core, the pee stream stopped, and the lad retightened his belt.

"A sheer force of nature. One for the records if I do say so meself." declared the proud man.

He had over-exceeded his intake of mead by an unholy amount of pints. Though well and proper drunk, he had a liver of steel, a trait which had won him many bets and impressed even the maddest of lads.

As the long lad began the initial steps back towards the tavern, a rustling in the woods caught his attention. He disregarded it at first, but the rustling got louder. And closer.

"Oi who te feck is out there!" shouted the lad.

There was nothing but more rustling.

"Alrighty ye bastard, show ye self ye wank!" shouted the long lad foolhardily.

Out of the trees came a dark figure. Not much could be made out of the figure at this distance. The lad planted his feet and gritted his teeth, a deep look of determination rested on his face. His brow furrowed fearsomely.

The silhouette of the figure was clearer now. It was tall, had big legs and arms, a spiked tail flowed behind it as it dashed through the snow with ease, and it had fiery red eyes. As it ran, it held on to something at it's waist, as if it were holding up its pants as it bolted forth at impressive speeds, head ducked down low like a predator. The thing was a thicc, fearsome mass of horror.

The lad forgot his great sword in the tavern. Rookie mistake. One he would hope he would never make again, assuming he could live do so. Instead, he raised his fists, ready for a brawl in the snowy terrain.

The figure closed the distance with the long lad by a difference of eight or so meters. It was cloaked in shiny purple satin, fiery eyes blazing through a hood. Irregardless, the lad held his ground.

"Show yeself!" shouted the lad in drunken rage.

With a a smooth motion of pride, large, scaly, green arms drew back the purple hood. As the hood draped around the humongous shoulders of the creature, its true form was revealed. The long lad had somehow attracted the fury of an Anthropomorphic Dragator. Green scales shimmered in the cold moonlight as the dragon boasted its size in the night. With a prideful raise of its chest, the dragon opened its sharp toothy maw to speak.

"I could not help but notice your cloak of wolf's fur" arrogantly proclaimed the dragon.

His voice was similar to that of a pompous male scholar who has too much to share on Bantorian history.

"What in te fook does it matter te ye?"

"You see, you could say I'm fond of wolves. Well, wolves, lions, foxes, tigers, so on and so forth, are somewhat of a passion of mine"

With a swift motion, he extended his arms out to his sides. Tendrils of fire licked up and down his finger, finding their way up to the claws at the end of his scaly fingers.

"And YOU, drape yourself in the fur of them!" angrily shouted the dragator, the fire in his eyes growing brighter and climbing up past his scaly brow.

"The wolves attacked ME, Half near ripped into me arse if not for me cunnin'. The cloak is simply a token of my gratitude towards the Divine for sparing me life, which I wear proudly upon my shoulders to show et." Proudly proclaimed the lad. He belched loudly as he fought the mead storm in his belly.

"Yet you disrespect the wolf though your horrid stitch-work."

"SHUT ET YE FOOKEN LIZARD. YER THE ONE WHO STALKS BLOKES IN THE WOODS TO ENFORCE YER VEGAN AGENDA"

"Watch your tongue you oaf, I'll have you flayed and roasted before you can even think of running back to your hag of a wife!"

Tears well up in the eyes of the lad, for while his is a mad lad, he is also a sad lad, who lost his Anime gf in the annihilation of Firebrand Valley at the hands of Queen Crocothot. He had copped one too many feels, and just barely chased it away with mead.

"TAKE THAT BACK YE SCALY FECK" shouted the lad, just barely managing to fight back the tears.

"So I've riled up the beast, good, you know how I feel about that wolf." Proclaimed the sly dragon.

"JUST SHUT UP ABOUT YE WOLF ALREADY YE GOB" shouted the lad, growing more volatile with every tense second.

The lad had enough, he leaped forward fists-first towards the dragon. But as his momentum halted, his fists were met with nothing but the falling snow, the lad looked around confused. A warmth washed over him from the back. The dragator had teleported behind him, holding his fiery claws just above his bare neck.

"Nothing personal kid…" slyly uttered the dragon.

"But there needs to be justice for my fur babies." said the dragon, growling the final words.

All of a sudden, the tavern doors swung open and a mountainous Nordic yell sounded from the doorway of the tavern.

"BEGONE JOU FURRI BEASTEN" shouted the epic voice.

The dragon seemed to disappear into thin air. The lad whipped around to face the voice. It was Bjigen, the owner of the Musty Boot. This lad was big. An absolute UNIT. His massive build blocked the view into the tavern, his red mane draping down past his shoulders, blocking the view around his neck. He was like a divine gatekeeper. The sight of him comforted the lad, for if anyone could scare off a monster of the night, it was him.

"Haembjorgur, whaet arr you doing aut here?" inquired the massive mate.

"Was just tryen to take a piss when this big dragon lad lept out te fooken woods and…" Haembjorgur was cut off by Bjigen.

"Com baeck into the tavern and tell me ovur a pint."

Eager to forget about his waifu, Haembjorgur entered the tavern, not once glancing back into the cold night.

Chapter 2: Mead and Song

Closely trailing the bearded giant, Haembjorgur followed Bjigen into the tavern and through the drunken swathes of revelers. At the tables sat many blokes drinking the night away reminiscing over old battles and loves. They sporadically laughed and chuckled from their bellies and hit their table in amusement with each other's humor. All of this was contrasted by one murky fellow in the back left of the tavern from Haembjorgur's perspective from the door. The bloke had a black cloak on that seemed to absorb some of the light around it, sending the light dancing off its surface. Or it was just velvet. Irregardless of the thread, the cloak was decorated with fiery glowing runes, mostly pentagrams. Haembjorgur recognized the runes on the cloak from his days studying at the Imperial University before it was demolished in the dawn of the Age of Thots: runes of fury and demolition, conjured up through great pain and anger. Whoever the character was, he had stories to tell. Alas, judging by his desolation in the back left corner, it was obvious he did not want to tell them. _That lad is edgier than a storm of daggers, _thought Haembjorgur. Staying close to Bjigen, Haembjorgur made his way through the sea of revelers.

Arriving at the bar which ran parallel to the door across the room, Haembjorgur took his seat on a shifty old stool carefully, as to not make it go tumbling down.

"Sorry if the bar appears dingy, business hasn't been too good" spurted Bjigen shifting from his Northern dialect to common Bantorian.

"Don't worry mate, the old lass is looking fine" replied Haembjorgur affirmatively.

Haembjorgur thought on Bjigen's words for a second through a partial drunken haze which was steadily ebbing and flowing as his abnormally strong liver conquered the mead storm in his gut. He didn't get it, the tavern was booming with life as usual.

"Business looks as good as ever though"

"It looks that way, but theres more to it than that" replied Bjigen.

Bjigen took out a pair of small reading glasses and ducked below the bar. After bumbling through bottles and junk, Bjigen retrieved an anachronistic whiteboard with figures and symbols Haembjorgur could not quite make out. He then sat it down on an even more anachronistic stand which had three thin metal legs which sat in a triangular arrangement.

"You see lad…" said Bjigen, trading the disposition of Nordic mountain man for an attentive teacher.

Bjigen pulled out a dagger that sat upon his belt and used it as a pointer and began explaining the reasons for the tavern's financial woes. The mead storm in Haembjogur's belly gained ground in the Gastrointestinal Front at this moment. His vision blurred and he became dizzy. He could scarcely stay focused on the economics lesson before him. His mind tossed and turned as his gut followed suit. Disabled by a drunken stupor, Haembjorgur's muscles caved in and he lost his strength. With a major loss in the Liver and a flood of intoxicants to the brain, the Battle of the Gastrointestinal Tract was lost, a victory for the forces of Hagri's Honeyed Mead. The vile poison had control over Haembjorgur now. What would the toxins due now that they had broken the walls and seized the fleshy mass of Haembjorgur's brain? Haembjorgur was bound by fate now, The Divine rest his soul.

With a sudden force of thunder, Haembjorgur's noggin crashed down into the bar table, shaking the tankards of patrons lateral to the poor lad. This impact was followed by the stool falling in on itself, splintering ancient wood and sending Haembjorgur straight to the hard cobblestone ground. He felt no embarrassment in this, only pain. Cold, hard pain.

Luckily the lad's liver shifted into MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE, and booted the toxins from his brain. His senses came back. Startled at his sudden supine position, Haembjorgur shot straight to attention, vertical once more. Patrons of the bar went back to drinking and laughing, as though nothing had happened.

"By The Divine, are you okay lad?! You completely wiped the bar and demolished the stool too!" shouted Bjigen.

"Yeah just a short little blackout, nothin a dinny have experience of" replied Haembjorgur dismissively, dusting wood chips off of his sleeves.

"Did you at least catch what I said?" Inquired Bjigen.

Haembjorgur responded as many a great man has responded in times of inquiry.

"No"

"Damn you, I got out my good whiteboard too" said Bjigen disappointed.

"Whatever you gob just give a drunk man a break and abbreviate et"

"Fine, Queen Crocothot has put a hefty tax on alcohol, and on businesses of all orients. This means alcohol is obnoxiously expensive and most of my coin is going into the pockets of Crocothot" explained Bjigen.

A figure that the two hadn't noticed piped in.

"Just don't pay the taxes idiot."

Bjigen and Haembjorgur looked towards the tenorish voice.

There at the stool next to Haembjorgur was a man enjoying a pint of beer. He was dashingly handsome and lightly bearded, and wore the raiment of a mage, complete with belts and pouches that held small vials and scrolls. His look was hard and critical.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?", inquired Bjigen harshly.

"Bro seriously, just don't pay taxes. If you want your money, stop giving it to Crocothot."

"If I do that, she'll burn down the tavern.", answered Bjigen a little more calmly.

"¯\\_(ツ)_/¯", answered the mage.

"How in tae fuck ye say that out loud" interjected Haembjorgur.

"And by te way, who are ye to come in here and call Bjigen an idiot. I bet me arse you're knowledge an cunning is a fart in te wind compared to this big glorious basta-"

Haembjorgur's voice trailed out as he proceeded to pass out and fall on top of the bar, shooting back up moments later.

"Who exactly is this idiot speaking to me", asked the mage angrily.

"My name is Haembjorgur, and who te fuck are ye?"

"I am Helix, Champion Wizard of the forest, I will flay you if you ever disrespect me as such a-"

"AY, AWESOME STORY MATE, ITS AS IF AYE ACTUALLY FOOKEN CARE"

Helix opened his hand out, revealing a floating mote of fire emanating from his hand. His face was now pulled into a snarl. Haembjorgur grabbed a leg from the decimated stool and got into a fighting stance, it was pretty cool actually. Everyone in the tavern was now aware of the commotion and got ready for the bar fight of the century. However, as if cutting through a massive thread of testosterone, an ebony black arrow flew through the crowd and landed in the bar counter between Helix and Haembjorgur. Everyone including Helix, Haembjorgur, and Bjigen whipped around to face the sender of the arrow. It was the edgy lad in the corner. Everyone stood suspended in confusion and awe as he pulled back the hood of his cloak and spoke, still looking downward.

"Goosenecks…" said a silky deep voice.

"Tae fuck" cut Haembjorgur.

The lad raised his gaze to Haembjorgur, making his heart run cold.

"Gimme, them goosenecks.", said the lad, still calmly.

"What? What's a gooseneck?", confusedly asked Helix.

"I think it refers to a sexual act!", replied a lad from deep within the crowd.

"No, he's not asking for sloppy…", replied Bjigen gravely. "That's Goosenecks the Claimer. Named for the supernatural substance he reaps from the bodies of those he has slain in battle."

Goosenecks then raised dual daggers towards Haembjorgur and Helix.

"Your goosenecks, gimme."

Just as the three braced for ultraviolent hyper masculine combat, the ground began to rumble. Golden light began to seep through the cracks in the wooden tavern walls as muffled angelic choirs could be heard through them.

"You've done in now lads, divine intervention.", grumbled Bjigen.

The front door blew open in an explosion of golden light and sound. Everyone inside covered their eyes or looked away, as the light was too much to stare directly at. As the light and sound began to lower to acceptable levels, a silhouette of an armored man could be made out. Haembjorgur slowly moved his hand away from his face, beginning to notice the figure at the door. His armor: gleaming silver, and covered much of his body. At his side: both sword and shield, just as equal in majesty. His hair: perfectly coiffed.

"Brothers", boomed a powerful and silky rich voice. "What you're doing, is kinda gay."

The knight had spoken.

"I beg your pardon?", asked Helix, expecting something else form the shining paladin.

"A gooseneck is a gooseneck.", said Goosenecks, edgily.

"Think about it, two dudes having physical contact with each other is gay right?", said the knight.

"I mean, yeah I guess.", said Haembjorgur irritated.

"And fighting is physical contact with another man right?", said the knight, quickly getting to his point.

Everyone groaned and expressed their displeasure.

"I went to arcane university for this.", sighed Helix.

The holy paladin knew he had lost the room, and desperately seemed to get it back.

"Come on guys, its perfectly reasonable."

"That's homophobec!", cried a voice in the crowd.

"Aye, exactly Ingvar, this is diverse establishment that welcomes people of all orientations. As a bisexual man myself, I advise you watch your intolerance; or else I'll have to throw you out myself.", very sternly, bravely said Bjigen.

Standing in solidarity with Bjigen, the entire mass of revelers faced the paladin with clenched fists. An already volatile situation teetered on the brink of explosion. The paladin's next words would need to be very, very careful.

"Look. I, Foxium the Paladin, am an agent of order. Justice. I look out upon this tavern, full of all you bros, and I see no order. And that, is kinda gay. It's about time someone around here laid down the law, and by my blade, it will be done.", very methodically spoke the paladin. He raised his chin, put his arms on his hips, and stood heroically. This was disrupted by the collective roar of the many pissed off revelers, and the ensuing bar fight.


	2. Part 2

Chapter 3: Raised Fists

The tensions building within the tavern finally erupted into one massive sprawl of fighting men. Haembjorgur and Helix threw fists 1v1, while Goosenecks took on as many revelers as he could. Foxium the Paladin struggled to hold off the many enraged LGBTQ+ allies within the tavern, including Bjigen. In moments between throwing and blocking punches, Helix and a now more sober Haembjorgur traded words.

"Now I've got you right where I want you" snarled the mage.

"Why av you got such a chip on your shoulder?" Haembjogur asked, ducking to dodge a punch from Helix.

"I don't think you recognize me from before, but you've got it coming to you", evading an uppercut.

"Av never seen you before in me life, why are so persistent?", almost bending backwards to avoid a hook.

"For slaughtering those wolves that hang from your shoulders"

"Oh, I know who you are!" Haembjorgur landed a clean blow right to the nose. Helix stumbled away, and wiped his nose of blood.

"Or maybe you know my other form better…SCALESONA!", Helix baring fangs as he said this, holding intense eye contact with Haembjorgur. Haembjorgur's blood ran cold.

Helix held his arms out in an anatomical position, leaning his head back. Great claws formed from his fingers, as great muscles began to stretch his tabard. Scales formed upon his toned skin as it became exposed from the tearing of his clothes. His sly face contorted and became reptilian in appearance. A great tail began to grow from his ass and sway through the air, tipped with ivory-white spikes. His boots ripped as massive reptilian feet burst through them. With a great, fiery explosion his transformation into his Dragator form had been completed. A shiny purple cloak now hung from his broad shoulders.

"Oh fuck", Haembjorgur muttered, shitting his pants. Helix bared his fangs and grinned in delight at the now fearful Haembjorgur.

Everyone stood in awe of Helix's new form, even Bjigen's bearded jaw had dropped. All but Goosenecks, who currently had a poor sod in a death grip by the balls. Goosenecks saw Bjigen in his shocked stupor and saw an opportunity to take on the big man. _Big guy, big gooseneck,_ he thought to himself, excited for the claiming he would soon conduct. He released his grasp on the lads nuts, sending the lad crashing down to the ground in a fetal position. As Goosenecks pulled out a dagger and began to make his way to Bjigen, a golden sword dropped down in front of him, barring the way.

"Hey bro, what do you think you're doing? This is a fist fight, no need for that.", heroically stated Foxium.

"I'm going to claim that chad's gooseneck. You aren't going to stop me alter boy.", replied Goosenecks, making harsh eye contact with the paladin.

"You're right about the alter boy part, but very wrong about that claiming part. By my will, you will never get the chance.", declared Foxium. Goosenecks scoffed at this.

"I've heard legend of your exploits in the lowlands, the battles you've fought, the people you've killed. You will not be adding to that list tonight, the Divine wills it.

"Well, looks like its going to be two goosenecks I will claim"

With this declaration Goosenecks leaped towards Foxium, taking another dagger from his belt. His daggers met Foxium's sword, sending brilliant golden sparks flying through the warm air. "Unlike your other foes, I will not be so easy…", said Foxium with a confident grin.

"Good, goosenecks are better when they come from the condfident", grunted Goosenecks, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

As Goosenecks and Foxium dueled, the LGBTQ+ allies formed a circle around the two, cheering on Goosenecks for standing up to the homophobe. While the two fought, Helix chased the Haembjorgur around the tavern, knocking over chairs, tables, and revelers in order to get to his prey. At brief intervals, Helix would stop to send bolts of fire rippling through the air towards Haembjorgur, sending him ducking for cover behind whatever he could.

"Oi! Watch the damned flames!", Bjigen would shout, often to no avail. He sighed as he watched the massive sprawl of fighting from behind the bar. He had learned to let these kind of fights ride out, as they happened often at the Musty Booty. As long as no significant damages were made, the furniture could always just be put back in their respective places. Bjigen observed all of the patrons fighting that night, but he paid special attention to Haembjorgur, Helix, Goosenecks, and Foxium, the reasons that all of this was happening. Bjigen focused on Haembjorgur, as he raised up a chair to deflect a clawed blow from Helix. He had known Haembjorgur for some time. He was a frequent patron of the Musty Boot, coming in every weekend to drink his life away after a long week of hunting and scouting. He had come from Firebrand, at the foot of the Fraust Mountains, a key point of civilization on the way to the lowlands. It was the furthest major city from the capital, Burgerheim, along the roads that linked much of Bantoria together. It had been razed in the final days of the Age of Thots. It was in this destruction that Haembjorgur's anime gf was slain by the thots. Fleeing the tyranny of Crocothot's rule and the grief he faced, Haembjorgur left for the Fraust Mountains. He had been a bard before the war, now he was a forest ranger. He made what money he could and spend it all at the tavern. Bjigen and him had had many good conversations over, well everything really. He had been coming to the tavern for nearly three years now, and he was by far and away Bjigen's favorite patron. The two had bonded over the years, Haembjorgur even helped out around the tavern whenever the need arised. He had always hoped he would find his way, but as it stands right now, things were as chaotic as always.

Bjigen's gaze then drifted towards Helix. He would appear in the bar every so often, only having a beer or two before he would quietly make his exit. He would rarely ever talk to the other patrons, instead he would mostly keep to himself and enjoy his drink. Bjigen had always been a little curious about him. He always paid attention to the chatter around the bar. From what he collected, Helix was a mage. He had studied at various colleges before the Age of Thots, but since the end of the war he had taken up residence within the forest. He had heard legend before of a Dragator that lurked in the woods, but had never connected it to Helix. He was surprised enough to have encountered him the first time tonight, but now even more surprised to know he's a patron of the bar.

Then Bjigen looked towards the duel taking place between Goosenecks and Foxium, watching Gooseneck's agile and ferocious attacks against Foxium's careful defensive parries. Bjigen had known of the infamous assassin before he revealed himself here tonight, everyone had. Rumor's floated around to where Goosenecks came from, or who he really was. All was conspiracy. The only thing that was truly known was his insatiable thirst for goosenecks, and only a handful of arcane scholars knew what a gooseneck really was; but there was much debate even then. Goosenecks was one of the few recorded claimers in Bantorian history; mighty warriors that claim the the spiritual essence of goosenecks from those they slay, growing their power. Irregardless of how patrons felt about him, everyone just stayed out of his way and let him have his corner of the tavern. As for Foxium, Bjigen had seen his type before. He was a holy paladin, though he bore no indicators or raiments of any specific knightly order. Bjigen had met many paladins when he had been a young adventurer. He didn't see as many now after the war. Most of the orders were annihilated during the war, serving and dying on the front lines. The paladins had often served as public servants, philosophers, and keepers of the peace, but now they were reduced to freelancers and mercenaries; this was likely the case with Foxium.

Bjigen looked out upon the tavern in totality. Most everyone in here was something more once. Perhaps, a blacksmith here, and a poet there. Warriors, scholars, merchants, friends, and lovers. All had been reduced to this, drunken barbarians. This was Crocothot's fault. She had taken all that had once been loved, and subjected it to her vision, demanding obedience or death. Everyone had lost someone or something in the war, and Crocothot was all to blame, swiftly taking power and crushing all in her wake with her e-hordes. Even Bjigen had lost a brother, his one and only sibling. He had been a great warrior, the greatest in fact. However, even he wasn't invincible when faced against forcible cancellation. It almost made Bjigen tear up just thinking about how much had been wasted. Bjigen watched as Helix, Foxium, Goosenecks, and Haembjorgur fought. They were certainly talented. Haembjorgur had been agile and resourceful in deflecting Helix's blows. Helix had masterful command of magic, and his transformation was one hell of a trick. Goosenecks had been inhumanly quick and ferocious in his attacks, seemingly dancing as he unrelentingly pursued Foxium. Bjigen saw great talent, if only it was not wasted on such petty things. All of a sudden, Bjigen felt a jolt of inspiration. All had lost something, and in that loss they could be united. Such talent could be put to use, maybe all was not ruin after all. Bjigen would not let that happen. No, in the face of doom and annihilation, he certainly would not.

Bjigen stood up on top of the counter and rested his clenched fists at his hips. Loudly, and in his native Fraustian dialect, Bjigen shouted, "**EVERYÖNE, CÜT IT ÖÜT!**". The powerful shout had knocked everyone in the tavern onto the ground in very messy fashion, and had shattered every bottle, glass, and mug in the tavern. Everyone was now groaning and disoriented, still coming to grasp with the awesome force that had just been displayed. Even Helix had been sent back into his human form by it, completely butt arse naked. _Ay, that's certainly going to cost me greatly. _Bjigen thought to himself, grumbling over all of the lost liquor. _But I know it will be worth it_.

Chapter 4: A New Hope

Bjigen sent everyone but the four instigators home. The bar laid in ruin, shattered wood, glass, and pools of alcohol littered the floor. Bjigen had cleared out a spot by the bar with a broom and set down five chairs in a circle. Everyone had sat down and started surveying each other. Everyone looked rough from the fight. Haembjorgur's face was ashen , one eyebrow half burned off, and flecks of wood were caught in his hair. Goosenecks was sweaty and winded, for Foxium had been nearly untouchable. Foxium's hair was now ruined, and shot sporadically in every which way. Helix had been the best off, for he was now clothed in backup garments he kept in his satchel, just in case he had to transform on the set at the cost of his clothing. Foxium had thought that Helix being exposed was incredibly gay.

Bjigen finally got to his chair, which he flipped around and sat down upon spread eagle, his chest resting on the back of the chair. Everyone tensed up, not enthusiastic about getting chastised for the fight. Instead, Bjigen let out a big sigh and looked up with a melancholic expression.

"Look lads, I'm going to be completely honest. You're all in a bad way here. I know of your pain, even if I don't _know_ your pain."

Everyone was a little shocked that Bjigen was taking this direction, and they weren't exactly sure where he was going. Irregardless, he had their attention.


End file.
